Holiday Special
by Bellephont17
Summary: Ever wonder what Sam and Dean did for Easter? Halloween? Mother's Day? A collection of Supernatural oneshots commemorating different holidays. To be updated hopefully the week of any given holiday. Expect IC fluffiness and sarcasm. T because it has Dean Winchester in it.
1. June 17: Father's Day

Sam was brooding quietly. (This did not surprise Dean overmuch because Sam was always brooding quietly.) But when he started looking at the DirecTV channel guide and flipping through porn, Dean had to ask.

"Is there something I should know about?" he asked, putting down his sawed-off and cleaning supplies and scooting to the edge of his bed to sit in a position of utmost attention, head forward and knees apart with arms resting on them. (He found that an open body posture encouraged Sam to talk.)

"It's June 17th," Sam said without looking up from the television screen.

". . . And?"

Sam sighed and turned, that taut look of annoyance/disappointment/resignation at Dean's stupidity plastered all over his face. (Dean hated that look, and instantly abandoned the open body posture.) "It's Father's Day," Sam said dryly.

"Oh." A pause. "So why the sour puss?"

Sam shook his head. "You know what, never mind. Just forget it." He reared up off the bed and shut off the TV, tossing the remote onto his pillow.

Dean got up too. "No, no, Sam, I get it. I mean . . ." He spread is arms. "Dad's dead. Father's Day brings that closer to home. But I don't understand how this year is different from the past – what – six years? I mean, you never bitched about it before."

Sam looked away, biting his lip as his eyes grew slightly red. He looked back at Dean, forcing the everything's-not-alright-but-I'll-put-on-a-brave-face-anyway half-smile. (This look Dean found cute and reminiscent of Chubby 12-year-old Sammy, though he would never say so.)

"We'd be calling Bobby right about now, don't you think?" Sam asked.

Dean sobered instantly. It was true. They would never outright call and wish Bobby "Happy Surrogate Father's Day", but they would usually find some excuse to call him just to talk. Bobby knew it too, though he would never outright say so or thank them.

"Okay," Dean said. "Well, thank you for officially spoiling my day." He smirked to cover his own emotions. "I guess this means I should go surf some porn, huh?"


	2. July 4: Independence Day

(July 4th – 2008)

Sam stood alone at the edge of the field. It was smaller than he remembered it. Anyone would peg it for just another dark patch of weeds. Only two people in the world would know the true magic that had gone on here twelve years ago. Well, only one person now.

Dean was dead. He'd been dead for two months now.

. . . _"Come on, let's go!" . . . _

His legs began moving of their own accord, following the voice that echoed in the back of his mind. Exiting the belt of trees that surrounded the field, he pulled a box of sparklers out of one coat pocket.

. . . _"Got your lighter?" . . . _

Sam pulled a lighter out of his pocket and looked down at it. It was stupid, the whole idea, and Dean would have called him a pansy if he ever found out Sam even _remembered _this place.

Sam doubted if Dean could have recalled that night in 1996 when he had stolen the Impala after their dad had passed out in the kitchen, a half-empty can of beer still clutched in one fist . . .

_. . . "Where are we going?" Sam demanded, sitting in the passenger's seat. "Dad's gonna be pissed!"_

"_Dad's always pissed," Dean shrugged. "Anyway, it's no big deal." _

"_You just stole his car. That's a big deal." _

"_It's for a good cause." Dean would say no more on the subject. _

_They pulled up to a gas station. Dean parked rakishly across several spaces and then hopped out. "Well, come on, bitch. You just gonna sit there?" _

_Sam grumbled but got out of the car and followed his brother into the dimly lit convenience store. There was a plastic crate sitting at the end of the first aisle, filled to the brim with cheap fireworks. Sparklers, firecrackers, even some of the big round ones that looked like kegs of dynamite. Sam tried to stop himself from salivating. _

"_Well, pick out a few." Dean said brusquely. _

"_What?" _

"_It's the Fourth of July. And that means fireworks." _

_Sam beamed at him for a second before diving headfirst into the box and choosing several. _

"_You know what?" Dean said after staring at the few low-priced sparklers Sam had wisely chosen. "We'll take the whole crate." _

_Sam's eyes bugged out of his head. "That's gonna cost a fortune!" _

"_Good thing I save my money," Dean winked and paid the cashier, then walked over and hoisted the crate up. "Get the door will you, Sammy?" _

"_Can we light them all up at once?" Sam asked as they stowed their treasure in the trunk. _

_Dean laughed. "Sure, you little pyromaniac." . . . _

Sam breathed in shakily and knelt in the damp grass. Wordlessly, he opened the box of sparklers and pulled one out, lighting the end and watching it listlessly as it sparkled to life, hissing and spitting silver fire.

He would have stayed longer, but he had a date to keep. Ruby would be waiting for him – he could feel the need for her blood beginning to tickle the back of his brain, like a growing itch that desperately needed to be scratched. He had to go.

"Thanks, Dean," he muttered softly, planting one final sparkler into the soft damp ground. "It was great."

After lighting it, he walked back to the Impala quickly, leaving behind a single bloom of light burning in the middle of the field. Sam didn't look back. He didn't want to see it go out.


End file.
